


What A Lovely Way To Burn

by NICEISME



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 1920s, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NICEISME/pseuds/NICEISME
Summary: That was when Newt saw him.Mr. Graves appearated in the middle of the chaos, dark suit impeccable, the famous coat fluttered a bit with the appearation. He strode to the tank, wand readied in hand, his steps sure and domineering, every bit screaming a thoroughbred alpha. Even through the water, Newt could see his face clearly, clean-shaven with a five o’clock shadow, dark features, still so devastatingly handsome, but no longer cold like the imposter. The man wore his hair longer too, sleeked and tied back behind his head with a few streaks of gray. It was all improper for Newt to feel this much titillated in this situation or this hot in the bloody freezing water.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language and I did no beta,  
> so any mistakes and errors are mine.  
> Please be kind. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story,  
> Thank you. ♥️

| Chapter One

 

 

Newt went in without much thought, lived up to his motto of not worrying twice; the outcome usually went as well as expected.

  
“Scamander!” Auror O’Brien shouted, just in time for Newt to wield another protego toward the massive tank, a stray spell from one of the smugglers hit the charm heavily, it cracked with a loud hiss but merged together fast.

  
“Oh, hello.” Newt smiled an infamous little-shit smile at the auror before ducked down from another hits by his two opponents, these people really didn’t know how to play fair, good grace.

  
However, he was no better.

  
When the opportunity came, Newt seised it and made his move; he apparated to the furthest witch, who had been throwing hexes at him from outside the circle of the duel and managed a rush of “ _I’m terribly sorry, but you deserve it._ ” and knocked her cold with his elbow. By an advantages of the element of surprise, Newt apparated back behind his former dueller and give the man a vicious petrificus totalus.

Two downed, nine to go.

  
“You’re so—.” O’Brien paused to adverted a red hex aiming for his thigh and continued. “—jailed. You’re going to enjoy our prison foods, we—.” Another pause. “—actually have tea on the menu.”

  
“The troll-spit thing you American tried to brew? I’ll pass. Thank you.” Newt chuckled nervously as he charmed himself a thick notice-me-not and climbed over the platform that attached to the tank opening. He was rather afraid to accidentally hurt the creatures inside if he‘d appearated on the tank, so this would do.

  
The tank was an enormous thing, cylinder shape, approximately over ten feet high and six feet wide. Newt’s protective charm glowing pale yellow on the outside, the thick glass filled with fluid that shimmered clear blue and green, it was shifting around madly with all the trapped creatures, panicking. The kelpies poked and prodded at their cage, every strike growing harsher, trying to break free.

  
A loud bang and a painful familiar groan strayed Newt away from his path, he looked down to see an inelegant sprawled form of Tina, possibly a result of a collision between her shield and a stupefy. Newt got a tad worried, his notice-me-not slipped for a moment, long enough for the alpha witch to give him a wide-eyed look, then; a severe frown.

  
“Newt! Get back here!” She hissed and yanked his coat, making him stumbled down a few steps. Newt rolled his eyes in annoyance and tugged the fabric off her hand. It stubbornly stayed where it was.

  
“I know what I’m doing.” He scoffed and tried to pried his coat from the tight grip, the woman was really, really strong.

  
“They’re not some street thugs, Newt! We’re greatly outnumbered, but the backup will be here in any minutes, we just have to buy some time and then you can check up all these—.” She gestured wildly at the tank. “—whatever they are, in peace. Please don’t jeopardize the mission.”

  
Newt sighed, “I’m not—.” Before he could say anything further, many distinct sounds of appearation happened around the place, mostly on the criminals themselves, the aurors swarmed the abandoned factory in a heartbeat. Hexes flying more and more in the air, the place looked like a firework gone wrong.

  
Tina was distracted by the sight, her grip loosened. Newt took that moment to get free and continued on his way to the platform. She shouted at him, but he was quicker, far out of reach already. Newt gave a triumphant smile when he hopped himself onto the flat metal  that bridging to the tank’s lid. The thing was heavily built like a vault door and to Newt’s utter exhaustion, there was a set of runes engraved on it, well known for repelling any arohomora.

“Bugger.” Newt swore and padded his coat pocket gently, a signal for his friend to come aid. Pickett peeked out, upon seeing the lid, he jumped out onto the magizoologist’s hand, knowing his job immediately.

  
Newt laid the bowtruckle on the lock and asked “Would you be a dear?”. Pickett shimmering his way into the keyhole as an answer.

  
In about a minute, the lock clicked with a lovely sound. Newt charmed the metal lid open, carefully slowed the motion, avoiding any attraction on him. The lid was half way open when a spell flown toward him, its speed was too fast to avoid. He stood his ground and use the last moment to send Pickett fly to Tina.

  
Then he, as foreseen, fell into the tank.

  
The cold water engulfed him, freezing Newt’s clothes and his very skin. The minuscule bubbles obscured his sight and the high-pitched sounds of the kelpies didn’t help with the direction. There were three of them, scrambling around him, fins sharp and fangs low. Their hooves lifted up, threatening. Newt subtly spelled the air bubble around his head, breathing in a lungful of air. The spell aided his sight, clear enough to see the frightened beasts, Newt lowered his head in an instant, the manner was respectful. He kept his head down till they stopped trashing and continued on their attempt to break the glass.

  
Newt could hear his heart beating fast in the quietness of the air bubble, his body’d gone numb with the freezing water. Carefully, he meandered his way through the beasts and looked outside, the fight approaching to an end, the aurors were, of course, winning. And Tina, Tina was panicking and shouting something in his direction.

  
“I’m okay.” He said and hoped she could read-lips, then he adverted his gaze over to the opening of the tank that, apparently, had been automatically closed when he passed through it. Wasn’t that just _wonderful_.

  
The kelpies kept at their endeavors, albeit rather failed.

  
“Alright. Swim back, you lots.” Newt pushed two young ones behind him, he could felt their scaly skin, sharp enough to tear a bit at his hand, but the water was too cold for him to feel any pain. He pointed his wand at the glass, seeing a knowing horror on Tina’s face, she was shouting again, but now at her coordinates, who started backing away from the tank.

  
Newt tightened his wand, a determined look on his face, and said.

  
“ _Bombarda maxima_.”

  
Nothing happened.

  
He cast again, but the tank withheld. He even tried to disappearated the kelpies and himself away but it wasn’t working as well. The tank was incredibly repellent to magic, Newt noted to himself to study about it later.

 

For the kelpies were sentient creatures, they had understood his doing, also; his failure, which was why Newt’s ears were being pierced  by many high-pitched, frantic cries. (One could rival a Mandrake, apparently.)

 

He looked at the glass in astonishment and decided to give it another try, stronger. Still nothing.

 

Newt could see some of the aurors disappearated away with their culprits in shackles, whom had been left behind, were talking anxiously at each others. Tina and O’Brien threw their own hits at the tank, Newt’s protego had withered away but the glass remained intact. He felt a dread crept up on his numbing spine.

  
That was when Newt saw _him_.

  
Mr. Graves appearated in the middle of the chaos, dark suit impeccable, the famous coat fluttered a bit with the appearation. He strode to the tank, wand readied in hand, his steps sure and domineering, every bit screaming a thoroughbred alpha. Even through the water, Newt could see his face clearly, clean-shaven with a five o’clock shadow, dark features, still so devastatingly handsome, but no longer cold like the imposter. The man wore his hair longer too, sleeked and tied back behind his head with a few streaks of gray. It was all improper for Newt to feel this much titillated in this situation or this hot in the bloody freezing water.

  
Mr. Graves gave him a glance for a moment, his face unreadable, then he continued on his inspection of the tank. His wand guided in hand swiftly, a few charms prodded here and there over the tank, while Tina and O’Brien informed him their own attempted spells.

  
Newt watched the alpha with an enraptured attention, inexplicably unable to look away. The kelpies pushed at him in annoyance, he stumbled forth, almost hitting the glass. Pickett in Tina’s coat pocket waved his twig in distress, the gesture drew Mr. Graves’ attention to it. Newt stirred up a touch at that, concerned for his, not so legal, friend.

  
The man talked to Tina briefly before holding his hand out patiently, Newt could see the bowtruckle slowly climbed into his hand, not quite believing his own eyes.

  
Then Mr. Graves disappearated away.

  
Newt saw red and panicked slightly, he scolded at Tina. “Where is he going?” She pointed up at the top of the tank in answering. He followed her finger and felt the lid shifting and then, thankfully, opening.

  
The water must be really cold to actually numb Newt’s mind. Why couldn’t he come up with that idea sooner? _Damnit_.

  
Newt herded the kelpies up over his head to go first, the aurors came up to disappearate them one by one, under Newt’s watchful eyes. When everyone seemed to settle on the floor just fine, he swam up to the opening. As Newt surfaced, he let the bubble charm popped and greedily took a hefty lungful of air, eyes closed. The smell of pines and something oceanic, contrast to the clear water he’d been in, hit his nose. It was so divine that he need to breathed it in _again_ , this time; he could taste the underlying notes of heavenly spice and alpha musk. The latter one made Newt open his eyes suddenly, heat crawling up his face.

  
He did not just _scent_ Mr. Graves. Oh Merlin.

  
“Are you alright?” A hand came into his line of sight, offering to help him up, feeling icy numb and embarrassed to have done something so lewd to the alpha, he could only stare at it uselessly.

  
“Not much, I see.” Mr. Graves muttered, and dear Morgana, that low raspy voice going to undo him. (With that kind of thought _again_ , Newt wished he had drowned in the tank.)

 

In peripheral vision, he could see the alpha slipped off his coat and suit jacket, leaving  them hovering in the air by his side. Then, the man rolled up his shirtsleeves, showing muscular forearms with thick veins, covered with fine dark hair. The man crouched down to Newt’s level, an amusement dancing in his eyes.

  
“May I?” Mr. Graves asked and Newt could only nod in reply.

  
He gently slipped his hands under Newt’s shoulders and lifted him up, clothes soaking wet and all, out of the tank. The show of sheer strength made the omega in him awoke and writhed in want. It settled a touch when the cold air in the room hit Newt like a blizzard, shivering badly; he stumbled into the man’s arms. Very subtle, Scamander. Newt managed a shaking “S—Sorry.” and felt his legs gave out under him still.

  
The alpha chuckled a bit and tightened his grips, they burned hot on his freezing skin. “Hang on.” He said and managed them both to disappearate down the floor.

  
Reddening up quickly, Newt must be; when Mr. Graves glided his hand over his shoulder. “Let’s get this thing off.” He said and gently pried Newt’s coat off his body, the thing hovered behind him, dripping wet to the floor. He could feel the drying and heating charm spreaded from where the alpha had touch him, the warmth slowly going through his body but mostly stayed on his face.

  
“I— Thank you.” Newt said weakly and saw the man wandlessly called for his clothes over the tank. With the jacket in the crook of his elbow and the black coat in hand, he turned to Newt.

  
“Here.” Mr. Graves said while unceremoniously dropped the heavy coat on his shoulders, the gesture gave Newt quite a startler. The fabric was body-heat warm and softer than he had expected, not that he had been expecting to wear it; mind you. It was rather big on him, unsurprisingly so, given the man’s breadth. The heady smell of Mr. Graves’ cologne and something spicy alpha-liked musk clung to the lapels, it stirred something hot burned low in Newt’s stomach. His icy numb face heated up rapidly, increasing ten folds in its speed.

  
“Thank you.” Newt muttered quietly to the man’s shiny watch that peeking from the vest pocket, unable to meet Mr. Graves’ eyes, he tugged the coat tighter around his not-quite-dry-yet body. Suddenly feeling small and greatly warmer, Newt peered up a bit at the man’s face, which held a complicated expression on, one of the thick eyebrows lifted a touch as well as the corner of his mouth. It was a handsome look on him, the thought made Newt averted his gaze away immediately.

  
“You’re welcome, Mr. Scamander.” The alpha replied. Newt’s eyes widened at his own name. Feeling unhelpfully giddy at the acknowledgment, he met the alpha’s dark gaze, it was rather intense and darker still.

  
“Oh—. It’s Newt, really. Mr. Scamander sounds like my father, I mean—.” He winced at the mention of his old man. Newt paused, knowing that he was rambling. “—it’s Newt.” He finished lamely.

  
There was a bit of an awkward silence before a hand lifted to tuck a small wet lock away from Newt’s forehead, he had an urge to shy away, but there was also an urge to lean into the touch and purred like a touch-starved omega. Hence how Newt just stayed perfectly still, shifting his focus to the older man’s wand holster, having a feeling that his cheeks must be tomato red.

  
Mr. Graves sighed, the sound fond and exasperated. With that, he walk away to unite with his aurors.

  
Newt’s gaze lingered after the retreating back, the vest-cladded shirt pulled obscenely over the thick shoulder, accentuated by the leather straps of the wand holster. Mr. Graves still walked with that confidence, his steps sure and graceful, both hands in the trousers pockets. The view was surely a fine one, lovely and muscled that it was. Feeling a bit lewd for no apparent reason, Newt was about to stop watching it when the owner turned around to give him a knowing smirk while walking backward to the man’s underlings, it lasted about three or four steps, before he continued on his way normally.

  
It left Newt flustered and undeniably aroused.

  
The young lots of kelpies made squeaking noises at his side, the sound very much like teasing.

  
“Oh, do shush.” Newt chided at his new children and coaxed them into his case.

  
People always said that Newt was a wild one, obstinate and devoted to his passion. When he had figured that he could invent a new career like a magizoologist just to satisfy his own need to learn and save all the beasts, the magizoologist he became; despite all the omega social norms and whatnot. Newt knew he’d never had enough patience nor enough self-control when it came to what he really wanted.

  
_And, god, how he wanted Mr. Graves._

 


	2. Chapter 2

| Chapter Two

 

 

Sometimes, Newt did wonder, that his philosophy had ever done him any good.

Newt found himself back in his own coat, Pickett snored the day away in the pocket, the worn fabric was now, perfectly dry and tingling with the alpha’s subtle magic.

For fifteen minutes, he had been doing nothing but fidgeting in his seat, absolutely bored out of his mind and annoyed to no end, because as he shifted and there was it again, another tiny ‘poof poof’ from the plush thing called a chesterfield, just every damn time he did something as much as inhaling.

Newt sighed, outwardly quiet, but internally loud. The bustling urge to check on his new creatures made his right leg give a sudden jerk. He scowled at it in betrayal before shifting his gaze to focus on the wall ahead, taking in the massive bookshelves and felt rather impressed with Mr. Graves’ choices in collections of zoology and werewolves’ right.

 _Yes_ , he was in Mr. Graves’ office. A huge upgrade from the underground interrogation room, Newt mused sarcastically to himself.

_‘It’s a new one! Much livelier, I would say.’ It had been the first greeting from Queenie who was now, apparently, Mr. Graves’ secretary. Newt could see her chirping happily behind her desk like a fwooper, looking quite content with the new position. Rather dumbfounded with the knowledge, Newt could only wave at her weakly. Then, a memory had passed through his head, the story that Jacob’d told him, about how he gave the Director office’s door an old school roundhouse kick to get Newt’s case._

_Involuntarily, a smile had split on Newt’s lips and shared between the younger Goldstein._

From the corners of his eyes, Newt could see Mr. Graves, a reading glasses perched low on his nose; very meticulously, going through his files. Newt’s files to be exact. He winced at the sheer size of the manila folder, way thicker than he had anticipated. The alpha’s expression gave nothing away, Newt was even more anxious with that kind of reaction when someone’s reading his life’s (Not criminal, mind you.) record.

The anxiety aside, Newt had one more feeling that he couldn’t let himself dwell on it too much.

Ah bloody hell, he shouldn’t have brought that up.  
  
Newt wouldn’t say that he was an innocent omega or anything, he had a fair share of experiences with human contact, sans spending his heat with someone. However, he could and he _would_ say that he had never experienced something quite like this. The attraction for Mr. Graves was way too—too _much_ for Newt’s liking, it was like a tangible rope, binding, pulling him toward the alpha, without a rear for him to control.

For Merlin’s sake, he’d been traveling the world for a while now, there were many beautiful, gorgeous people out there. Some had pursued him, courting him even.

But for Mr. Graves—.

Well, Mr. Graves was, indeed, very handsome; in a feral kind of way. (Wasn’t that appealing for Newt, huh.) He had this roughish look that spoke of life worth living, but not vulnerable; not at all. The man held his back straight and moved with grace, wielding his magic like an extension of himself, powerful and in control. Anything to cover a perfect appearance for an alpha, he had them all. Fame and money as well. But those meant nothing to Newt, they never had.

So why did Newt feel like, given a chance, he would jump on the man immediately.

“Mr. Scamander.” A low voice called him out from his reverie, to say that Newt had jolted from his seat by the sound, would be a bit understatement.

“Yes? Mr. Graves?” He squeaked and added, “And please, it’s Newt.” Newt watched Mr. Graves closed the file and tossed his reading glass lightly on it. A thumb rubbed at his lips in thinking for a second as he stood up from his leather chair. (That sinful thing did not belong in the office, Merlin.) The alpha walked over the front of his great mahogany desk and leaned against its surface. The shirt bunching up around his biceps when he crossed his arms. Newt’s fidgeting intensified largely at the sight.

“Oh I wouldn’t, I feel like I haven’t earned it yet.” Mr. Graves opposed in his neutral, raspy voice.

Newt simpered a touch at the man’s opinion, surprised yes, but very pleased with it.

Then, Mr. Graves shifted his gaze to the battered case, sitting innocently by Newt’s leg. The gesture drew a hurried “I have the lock fixed!” from the omega and a very swift change of mood in the room.

“I’m sure you do.” Mr. Graves’s tone gave a note of doubt. “However, you have, yet again, brought many unregistered magical creatures on American soil without the further notice in advance. So—.” The words drawled out. “What’s going to be done about that?”

Newt gulped, quite loudly in the stillness of the room. He slid closer to his case, an abstracted habit. His mind was whirling with all the escaping scenarios, none of them looked pretty. (To hell with the attraction if the man were to harm his creatures.)

Mr. Graves seemed to notice his inner turmoil, the man sighed and gave him a pointed look.

“I’m not going to take them in, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’re not?”

The alpha shook his head, a sincere look on his face.

“Why?” Newt knew he might have been pushing his luck, but _really?_

“To be honest, I don’t know.” Mr. Graves shrugged. “Also, I do owe them, somehow.”

He paused to give Newt a rather fervent look. “And _you_. So thank you.” The last two words stressed with an earnest conviction, the kind that spoke ‘I am, forever, in your debt.’ kind of earnest.

The man ran a hand up through the locks of hair that had fallen over his face. “—And no, I’m not going to take them in.” He finished rather unwittingly and seemed to be at wit’s end.

“Oh.” Newt voiced, a bit gaping at the statement.

It must be almost a year already.

The alpha did owe him, Newt supposed. Though, he hadn’t given it much thought, just making and cleaning his own mess as he had been. However, the turn of event about the obscurial had, guiltily saying, intrigued his magizioologist’s hunger, and he had genuinely wanted to help the boy. Also, ripping the mask off the dark wizard did have its own satisfaction, even though, the deed had had him on interrogation for hours, by Madam President herself, of all people.

‘I didn’t know for sure’ Newt remembered himself answering, the dust and grime still clung on his coat. ‘But if he’s the same man in Theseus’ letters, well, it’s rather obvious.’

And back then, he hadn’t had such thirst for the alpha like he did now.

Newt thought of himself attracted to Grindelwald and shivered.

 _Badly_.

They had poured the veritaserum down that ashen throat, trying to gain the whereabout of their director. But Grindelwald was a real lunatic, it’d appeared that he had desensitized himself with the potion, possibly had been drinking it to do so. (Very clever, Newt deigned to admit.) That was where Newt came in, offering up his own mixes, composed of many rare ingredients which had been generously given by his beasts.

‘I can see what Albus saw in you now, _Newton_.’ Said the mad mage with something akin to wonder in his mismatched eyes. Newt had bristled at the comment, feeling his magic uncoiling in his chest, furthering down his wand-hand with an unforgiving spell behind his gritting teeth. (The spectacle hadn’t got away from Senior Auror Fontaine’s watchful eyes whose had hurriedly ushered Newt out of the room.)

After signing the contract with the MoM to send Grindelwald back to Azkaban, Madam Picquery had led the team with many aurors, the good ones, whom had been demoted or assigned to ridiculous mission over the world, and one outlaw migizoologist. It had been a quick, successful, physically easy mission, but very emotionally hard; they had found Mr. Graves in his own basement. The mansion stood over the edge of town, huge, private and isolated. Very convenient to turn into a prison.

The alpha—.

A cough brought Newt back to present. He blushed, _again_ ; and thought it had been two times too many in a day for Mr. Graves to see him daydreaming about the man, who was now watching him with a mirth glinting in his eyes.

“Oh Merlin, where have you lost me?” The time had slipped away from him, truthfully. “I’m terribly sorry. It has been a long day.” Newt sheepishly offered.

To Newt’s amazement, that earned him an apologetic look from the other man. “No, you’re right. It’s me who need to apologize.” Mr. Graves pulled out his pocket watch, giving it a brief glance, and said. “I’ve kept you here far too long now. We can carry on our discussion of what to do with—.” His hand gestured to the case. “—tomorrow.” The last word came out quiet.

Newt nodded, feeling strangely disappointed.

“Or—.” Newt perked up at the new addition.

“Over a dinner, perhaps?” Mr. Graves suggested, his tone was uncertain, but hopeful.

 _Oh_.

“Yes. Dinner sounds lovely, Mr. Graves.” Newt grinned and saw the other man did the same.

 

* * *

 

“Have you ever ridden a car, Mr. Scamander?” Mr. Graves asked him when they reached the appearation point of the Woolworth building, a privilege of being the Director of Magical Security apparently.

“Many times.” Newt scoffed, offended.

Mr. Graves lifted a hand in apology. “How about driving one?”

Newt’s eyes widened at the suggestion, a gleaming excitement blooming in his chest. He had alway been fascinated by Muggles’ innovations, their willful ignorance of the Mother Nature to surpass the simple pace of life. Mr. Graves smiled at him knowingly and proffered him an arm like a lead dance partner. Newt blinked and stared at it for a moment before he looked up at the owner’s face, lifting a brow in questioning.

Mr. Graves chuckled, his arm never faltered. “My Auburn Speedster is at your beck and call.”

“Very chivalrous, Mr. Graves.” Newt said and took his arm, the case tightened in one hand. In this close proximity, he could smell the godly oceanic scent and spice again.

Felt like being bold tonight, Newt adjudged and breathed in, _deeply_ , leaving no doubt for what he was doing.

The alpha shot him a look that was, to put it simply, _ravenous_ ; while growling low in his throat.

He swallowed, _Sweet dear Morgana_ , the primal display had brought a desire to bear his neck and just let the man have a go at it.

Newt fought it down and, to his relief, won.

With both of them on the verge of making a scene (That was surely, going to be in MACUSA’s public pensieve.), they disappearated away.

The smell of freshly mown grass was the first thing to greet him, Newt took a lungful of it to clear his lust-clouded mind, then he opened his eyes, just to be startled by the sight of the familiar place.

They had arrived at the Graves’ manor.

If it wasn’t for the distinct initial of G, engraved on the bronze gate, Newt would’ve thought otherwise for how the place looked vastly different, the manor itself was majorly renovated or possibly a new one entirely. Through the intricate woven of metal, under the pale moonlight; gone the marble fountain and a gravel road, instead was a massive garden, blossoming with flowers and tall trees, it reminded Newt of the hidden part in the hidden forest, his ever favorite place in Hogwarts. Newt’s breath hitched in his throat at the remembrance.

Mr. Graves started “I hope it’s not too—.” Newt drawled his gaze away from the Eden and looked at the man by his side. “—Garish.”

“No! It’s not, not at all.” Newt was quick to correct him. “It’s beautiful. Very beautiful.”

Their eyes met and Newt realized just how they were still linked together, arms interlocking close. Mr. Graves followed his gaze to the contact. Newt reddened, rather conscious by it. But he did not move, waiting to see what was the older man going to do next.

Slowly, the man untangled their arms and when the space almost separated them, just the tips of the middle fingers still lingered, he opened his palm, an invitation given.

Which Newt accepted with a firm grip.

The alpha’s hand was calloused, scarred in places and very warm. It was similar to Newt’s own, so much that he felt something inside him slotted together perfectly and long overdue.

“Shall we?” Mr. Graves squeezed his hand a bit, his gasoline eyes gleamed golden under the glow of the twins gate-light.

Newt bit his lips, trying to suppress his bursting smile, and nodded.

The gate opened itself, none of the sound was made. As Mr. Graves led them through it, Newt could feel a wave of formidable protection charms caressing his body, the magic left a corporeal touch all over his skin. He watched the luminiferous line dancing on his case, a tad worried; but it moved on, unbothered. However, the line had turned bright red and pressed harder at their linked hands, shifting around it like water.

“Blood magic?” Newt recognized.

“Among others.” Mr. Graves answered, his face unreadable.

“Does it always need to—.” Newt gave him a pointed look at their conjoined hands, dejection welling up like a tide.

“No.” The alpha rushed to differ. “There are other ways. Not many, but there are.”

Newt opened his mouth to offer a suitable reply, but it came to an abrupt stop when a soft Poof! and a gleeful of, “Master Percival! Master Percival has come home early and oh!” The tiny house-elf gave Newt a huge eyes. (They were very big, especially for a house-elf.) “Master Percival has a guest! Millie is so happy! Millie is going to make a perfect dinner! The best! Only the best for Master Percival and—.”

Newt, charmed and endeared immediately, couldn’t do anything but introduced himself to her. “Newt Scamander, lovely to meet you, Miss Millie.” He capped it with a dimple.

She stared at him, having a look of who was ready to cry.

_Oh, dear._

Millie turned to Percival and whispered, voice brittle. “Millie _loves_ Master Newt, please, Master Graves, please make him happy, so Master Newt doesn’t have to go anywhere else.” She paused and whispered in even quieter voice. “Master Percival mustn’t let go of that hand.” She pointed at the said thing as an emphasis, an uncannily daring habit for a house-elf.

Newt’s face heated, the jerk-like reaction almost made him let go. But the alpha had tightened his grip and for Newt’s utter mortification, puffed up his chest and nodded, face solemn.

“Will do, Millie. But it’s not just me, it’s we, who need to make him happy.” He whispered back in secrecy at the house-elf like Newt wasn’t aware of their colloquy, so he cleared his throat to catch their attentions.

“I believe, Master Newt is very capable of making himself happy.” Newt retorted without heat while quashing an urge to stomp on the alpha’s foot, settling himself with just squeezing Mr. Graves’ hand, but to the point that the man let out a puff of laughter, laced with something kindred to pain and pleasure.

“Oh no. No. No. Millie will make Master Newt even happier! With the best food and the best bath and the best—.” After the word bath, Newt lost all the chattering to another rush of blood in his ears.

Mr. Graves took that moment to pulled him close and leaned in to breathe in Newt’s scarlet earlobes

“Let’s prove her wrong, shall we?”

This infuriating, charming, know-how-to-treat-a-house-elf man.

Newt really, really did hope Millie was right.

 

* * *

 

Millie lived up to her words, she was, truly; a marvelous chef.

And Mr. Graves— dear Merlin, he was so, so wonderful.

The title of Director of Magical Security did not hold the man back from learning something new, he had listened to Newt’s babbling about all the creatures and exotic plants, while asking questions that made the omega pause for a whole minute to excavate his brain for an answer. On the other hand, Newt had learned a lot about the law and its history (Rather gruesome and very awakening.) His favorite part was about the alpha himself, the life in Illvermorny and what was under Madam President’s headband (A story for later time.)

It was refreshing, exhilarating and so very addictive.

“—that explains a lot. How about the other ones, the weyr of Fireballs? I don’t think they would do well with the weather there, unlike the Horntails.” Mr. Graves halted, his forkful of Chateaubriand left midair in thinking. “The Carpathian Mountains.” The man figured at last.

“Exactly. Vast and wild enough to afford another specie.” Newt grinned, very pleased.  
  
“Or hiding the whole dragon preserve.” Mr. Graves teased.

Newt sputtered his Elderflower wine a bit at the truth in the alpha’s comment.

“Mercy Lewis, you did, didn’t you? Illegally creating a sanctuary for every dragons you stumble upon. Concealed away in Eastern Europe.” The man continued on, leaning his back into the chair, a look of disbelief on his face.

“They are content to hunt in their territory, which is very deep in the forest.” Newt protested weakly.

For a moment, Mr. Graves regarded his words, then he smiled with a mien so tender that Newt’s felt something in his chest melted and seeped away into the alpha’s grasp.

“Of course, they are.”

Down the hall, the clock chimed clangorously.

As simple as it seemed, the spell lifted, startling them both from their little world.

Newt watched Mr. Graves dabbed lightly at the corner of his own mouth, looking very reluctant to end the night. Newt shifted a touch in his seat, the sentiment was more than mutual.

“I remember, I did promise you a ride.” Mr. Graves was the first to break the silence.

Newt fiddled with the stem of his Bordeaux glass for a moment and replied. “You did.”

They stared at each other, the smiles playing around the edge of their lips.

Newt, for the first time in his life, didn’t want to look away. _Strange, wasn’t it?_ To enjoy something he had distasted so much like eye contact. Newt pondered. Or was it just Mr. Graves? Who, to be frank, had been a complete stranger hours ago. Only one supper, they had shared, but here Newt was, feeling like he could go through fire and water for the man.

 _You were falling for him._  

The cognizance clutched around Newt’s heart and rattled it with a force so vicious that he unconsciously put a hand over it. 

_Damnit, calm down, you gullible thing._

“Feeling a bit too lightheaded to drive now, Mr. Scamander?” Mr. Graves mistook his action and joshed.

“Oh, _you have no idea—_.” Newt giggled, eerily content with how things went.

“—I could have a few more glasses and still can ride an Ironbelly over the Woolworth building like the night has the sun, ah— doesn’t that sound tempting?” He mused, rather enticed by the idea.

The alpha laughed. “I would rather keep my job, thank you.” He paused and said gently. “It’s late.”

“And I have a round to feed my famished children.” Newt helpfully added.

Mr. Graves grinned and decided. “Come on, she’s waiting at the front.” Then he stood up and rounded the table to Newt, a key materialized in his hand.

 

* * *

 

Driving, Newt concluded, was very similar to flying, not on a hippogriff or any beasts, but a broomstick, with the wind rustling through his curls and the heady feeling of exceeding one’s speed. The engine had rumbled under Newt’s sure feet, quietly but powerfully accelerating at will. Auburn Speedster was, surely, a one fine car.

But there was a limit to it, like how he had to stay on the roads or slow down when they were in the city. Still, the leisure pace did have its own perk, the closeness of a confined space served a lovely opportunity to strike a conversation, and even lovelier part was how their scents mingled together so perfectly that the omega in him wanted to be drown in it and never resurfaced.

Newt told Mr. Graves that (Not the last part, of course.) when they arrived at his little hotel, the place was modest and had a touch of old Victorian beauty to it, a courtesy of his editor, a reward for the bestselling edition.

“I used to play for the Irish International Quidditch team, junior league, of course. They lots were, or very likely, still mad about it. Always the new brooms, dismissed all the cushion charm in favor for the speed. Might have broken some of the BRC’s Law.” The man chuckled, the sound fond of the memory.

“Let me guess, chaser?” Newt asked.

Mr. Graves’ smile could outshine the moon. “Seeker?”

“Three snitches in a row.” Newt proudly said.

The alpha quietly applauded to that, a genuine admiration in his eyes. Newt bowed a little and watched the other man disappearated out of the car to Newt’s side. He leaned over the door and opened it, no magic aided.

With the case secured in one hand, Newt stepped out into the older man’s space and felt warmed up suddenly, despite the cold air of the night.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening, Mr. Graves. Thank you.” Merlin, did he have it.

“Percival.” Mr. Graves— Percival offered.

“Newt.” He gave his own, very insistent this time.

Percival grinned, but his expression turned gentle. “The feeling is mutual, Newt.”

With that, the alpha, gallantly as ever, took Newt’s hand and kissed at the mount of Venus.

Something sparked at the chaste touch, like a tree sprouting from the very place, its roots dug deep into Newt’s skin, running through his veins; and settled itself somewhere behind his ribcage, leaving the flowers to bloom and flourish for all the world to see.

_Oh, it’s you. It’s really you._

Newt thought and let the forest grow.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> XOXO


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